


makeout on the couch

by Murf1307



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:43:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murf1307/pseuds/Murf1307
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras and Grantaire make out on the couch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	makeout on the couch

**Author's Note:**

> written for [this](http://semenjolras.tumblr.com/post/58491824635/grantaire-finally-making-out-with-enjolras-and) tumblr prompt.

Grantaire is shaking.

The reason is perfectly understandable — he’s shaking because Enjolras is  _kissing him_  on the couch in Combeferre and Enjolras’s tiny apartment. Enjolras’s hands are fisted in the front of Grantaire’s oversized hoodie, and he’s kissing like he’s searching for something inside Grantaire’s mouth. Enjolras is kissing him with every jot of focus he uses on anything else; he’s concentrating and overwhelming, and Grantaire doesn’t know what to do about it.

He kisses back — because even he can’t fuck  _that_  part up — but he has no idea what to do with his hands, what he’s allowed to do with his hands and oh God, he’s going to fuck this up like he fucks everything else up in his life that’s good oh  _fuck_  Enjolras can  _kiss_.

Enjolras pulls back a centimeter or two to pull in a breath before catching Grantaire’s lips again, tongue brushing the seam of them. Grantaire opens under that touch and makes a soft noise of something like surrender. He still doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he tries to make up for it by using his tongue, brushing it across Enjolras’s in question:  _is this okay with you?_

Apparently it is and Grantaire kisses a little harder. His hands are still shaking and his heart is well on its way to beating its way through his ribcage, but he gently settles his hands around the place where Enjolras’s t-shirt overlaps with his jeans, and oh god oh god Enjolras is  _soft_ , practically plush in his hands, skin and flesh yielding there, and Grantaire makes another noise. This one makes Enjolras let go of his hoodie and grab his face instead, and Grantaire is being hauled closer and he can hardly believe it, is this really happening?

When they next need air, Grantaire asks, voice a little hoarse, “Can I?” as he moves to kiss Enjolras’s jaw, and Enjolras nods, tilts his head to give Grantaire better access, hands sliding down to palm his sharp shoulderblades and trace his collarbones, hands roving, roving, and Enjolras is  _perfect_  and Grantaire doesn’t know what to say so he just kisses his way across Enjolras’s smooth jaw and puts his hands gingerly on his shoulders because he’s terrified.

He knows he’s going to fuck this up, he just doesn’t know when, and he wants to make this last however long he can. He chokes on Enjolras’s name and Enjolras catches his lips again, tugging on Grantaire’s lower lip with his teeth and Grantaire nearly sobs because  _oh god_  this isn’t  _fair_  because there’s no road map for this, no “Twelve-Step-Guide-to-Making-Out-With-Enjolras” that he can consult and that’s going to ruin him because he doesn’t know how to do this right and he always manages to fuck things up even when he’s given clear instructions, so his hands are shaking and every noise he makes is punched out of him like he doesn’t mean to make it — because he doesn’t, not really — and between kisses he keeps mumbling, asking for permission.

After one kiss that leaves Grantaire completely breathless, fingers limp against Enjolras’s curved, gorgeously full hips, Enjolras pulls back a little more than he has before. Grantaire’s stomach ties itself in knots because oh no, oh no, he’s done it now and he’s not even sure what ‘it’ even is, really, but this is the part in the story where Enjolras inevitably realizes that making out with Grantaire isn’t the thing he wants to be doing.

A moment of silence, and then Enjolras takes Grantaire’s shaking hands in his. He presses them against his chest, leans in close, and just before he catches Grantaire’s lips again, he whispers, voice  _filthy_ , “Touch me, damnit,” and suddenly he is  _in Grantaire’s lap_.

Grantaire short-circuits for a moment. Then, he just thinks,  _fuck it_ , and gets with the program.


End file.
